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I gave her the evil eye. “You’re gross,” I shot back like a five-year-old with no other response.
She widened her eyes meaningfully and leaned toward me. “I’m not the one sitting here being fed by my boyfriend while the rest of the girls at the table plot my murder.”
I choked on the anchovy dressing, or maybe it was Rachel’s words, but I reached for my water and gulped half of it down. “They are, right? It’s not just my imagination?”
“Oh, they hate you. Since the moment you sat down,” she said with a nod.
“Cool.”
“I got your back.” She grabbed a butter knife and mimicked stabbing someone with it.
I reached for the unsharpened knife and placed it on the table in front of her.
“Let’s just leave that here,” I said as I patted the table.
“I’m just saying. Don’t fuck with my girl is all.” Then she launched into a tirade of rapid Spanish.
I assumed it was a tirade based on her tone of voice, but I had no idea what she was actually saying.
Right after I ate the last bite of my grilled chicken, Nick hopped out of his chair like something bit him. He grabbed my hand so hard that it shocked me.
“Dance with me,” he said before yanking me out onto the otherwise empty dance space.
Whistles and hoots came from everyone before a few brave couples decided to join us, their bodies moving slowly with the music.
“Are you okay? What was that?”
“Carla grabbed my dick under the table,” he said against my ear.
Enraged, I pulled back, my fists clenched. “She what?”
I looked back, but her seat was empty. Scanning the rest of the space, I saw her at the opposite end of the ballroom and moved to head toward her, but Nick tugged at my hand, forcing me to a stop.
“Don’t. She’s not worth it. And she’ll make your life hell. Trust me.”
“That’s rude and disrespectful. Who does that?” I all but shouted at him, not wanting to create a scene, even though I was seething.
“She’s just jealous.” Nick rolled his eyes and shrugged, downplaying it as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time.
“Jealous? Of me?” I scoffed. “Does she own a mirror?”
Nick’s hand cupped my cheek. “You’re a thousand times more beautiful than she is. In every way. Carla’s not a nice person, Jess, and she doesn’t like to lose. She’s not used to it.”
His tone was so soothing, so calming, that I almost forgot the whole thing had just happened. Almost.
“Don’t let another girl touch you like that. I don’t care who she is. Smack her hand. Do something.”
“I did. I jumped up and reached for you,” he said, as if that was enough.
Was it?
Why did girls have to behave like this around my boyfriend? Why did girls behave like this at all?
“This is so ridiculous,” I said, unable to hide my annoyance.
He tilted my chin and leaned in, giving me a sweet, soft kiss. “Don’t let it ruin our night.”
I melted with his touch and looked into his blue eyes. “I want to punch her in her stupid face.”
